


Before You Know I'm Gone

by mmmelmoth



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: A bit of heartbreak, Alternate Ending, Gay Romance, Headcanon, M/M, Vanessa dies in episode 11, past Vanessa/Fisk, possibly a lot of heartbreak, quotes from the series, season one episode eleven, the path of the righteous, this could actually be how it went
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 05:59:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9165211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmmelmoth/pseuds/mmmelmoth
Summary: After Vanessa's drink was poisoned in 01x10Alternate ending:"She'll make it." "You got a med-degree in your pocket I don't know about? Why are you so sure?" "Because she has to."But she doesn't.





	

“There was a time when I believed I was complete… that I needed no one to truly understand who I am.” Fisk briefly paused to catch his breath, not even trying to cover his emotions in front of his only friend. His voice cracked. “If she _dies_ -…” “Rosenberg’s in from Hartford and she’s _strong_. We’ve all seen that.” Wesley put as much belief in his own words as he could bring up. Even though he had never liked Vanessa particularly much, she had to survive. For all of their sakes.

“You need to find who did this. You need to - I want to look in their eyes when I salt the earth with their blood.” He didn’t flinch at the threats from his employer. It was what he was used to, after all. A dirty and bloody business, yet he never felt the least bit of empathy for those who got in Fisk’s way. “Understood.” Perhaps he himself was sick. Fisk’s breath became quicker again. “I told her the safest place she could be was by my side and now she’s lying in there _because_ she was by my side-“ This was the last thing Wesley ever expected from him. Not only to fall in love so helplessly, but to get wound up over one person so much. He’d always known that Fisk was a man who felt strongly for the few people close to him, but hyperventilating had never before been an issue.

“It’s not your fault” was what he wanted – no, needed to hear, and it was Wesley’s job to provide that. Fisk stared at the man sitting on the waiting room chair next to him, the only person who’d ever permanently been at his side, who had never been repelled by his ways and actions. Not his mother, not Vanessa. Wesley. And never had he shown and gratitude for it, at least none that wasn’t financial. Did the man next to him know he was one of the most important parts of his life? “I…” Fisk began, feeling he’d neglected their friendship in all the recent events, and then choked out the words that only scraped the surface of what he was trying to say. “Thank you.”

He felt awful. When the door to the hospital wing opened, he finally had an excuse to get up. A few feet away stood Dr Rosenberg, extending his hand for him to shake. Wesley watched as his employer ignored the greeting and straight-up got to business. “What is it? Is she gonna make it?” Dr Rosenberg hesitantly lowered his hand and turned to walk with Fisk. “We tried to induce a coma. She has been holding up so far, but… she won’t for much longer.” “What are you saying?” Fisk’s trembling voice rose. “She’s dying. We’re doing all we can, but she’s slipping through our fingers.” Wesley’s face didn’t change as Fisk shoved the doctor into the nearest wall and then hurried down the hospital floor to Vanessa’s room. Finally, he left the chair behind too and helped the elderly man to his feet. “My apologies. He’s compulsive, but don’t worry. You will be paid after our agreements.” The doctor nodded, somewhat in shock, and steadied his breathing.

Everyone always found that Wesley’s influence on his surroundings was soothing. Maybe that’s why the most powerful man of Hell’s Kitchen had kept him as his right hand man for so many years. Referring to it as a friendship always gave Wesley a bitter taste in his mouth. Friends – no, this wasn’t quite what they were. Long-term business partners, a quid-pro-quo relationship, that described it better. Why else if not for his own profit and peace of mind would Fisk keep him at his side?

He’d arrived at the hospital door to find Fisk crouching next to the bed. He’d just bent back from kissing her dry, dying lips. “I can’t pray for you.” His deep, husky voice was shaky but became steadier as he spoke. “All I can do is make you a promise. One, that not even god – if there is such a thing – can prevent me from keeping. The people that did this to you… they will suffer.” Wesley smirked. He himself was a convinced atheist, too. How could he have been anything else with witnessing the horrors that were part of his job every day?

“Wesley.” Fisk cleared his throat. “Please. Let me be James just for today. Too much has happened to just keep talking business.” When Fisk turned, Wesley wasn’t certain whether he wanted to take the words back.

“Wilson.” The hint of a smile played around the corners of Fisk- Wilson’s mouth, which had before been pulled down by pain. “Can you believe this is what dying looks like? She appears to be just sleeping, and on the inside she’s losing the fight with herself. This isn’t fair.” Fisk burst out. _Compulsive_. James took a step closer. “The world isn’t.” The men found themselves facing each other and Fisk raised his hands to his head. “I always thought of death as pain, agony. Blood and guts, that is why it was so satisfying. To relive the desperation of a live spent suffering just before it all ends. This is nothing like it. I… I don’t know how to handle this.”

When he looked up into his friend’s eyes again, framed by heavy glasses, he wished the words would stop flowing out of his mouth. The kingpin of this city wasn't supposed to behave like an angry four-year-old. “At least her death won’t be much of a torture for her. Isn’t that a relief?”

Fisk turned away from Wesley. _He didn’t understand, of course he didn’t-_ “For her, it may be a relief, but what about me? How am I supposed to live on? She brought out the best in me, didn’t she?” Those selfish thoughts wouldn’t quit his head, even when he thought he’d gotten rid of them at last he would find them banging against the inside of his head again. Like a tumor. “There are people who would beg to differ.” Fisk ripped his eyes off his fading love to look at his employee. “And what about you, James? What do you think of it?” This may have been the first time he sincerely called him _James_. Before it had always been just Wesley, like a robot assistant who was always there to answer to his needs and take care of everything important. Maybe it was him who in fact ran the city and simply let Wilson have the fame and reputation.

“I think you shouldn’t forget that she wasn’t the only one who cared for you deeply. There may still be other people who can bring forth another part of you.” James’ voice was deep and steady, as it always was, not betraying anything. Fisk sometimes forgot about the admiration he had for this man and for his always upright facade. Then, in moments like these, he was reminded of his agent’s perfect grin and way to deliver only as much information as he wanted his opponent to know. Of course, they weren’t opponents. He was glad to have Wesley on his side, because this man would’ve been eventually a bigger threat even than the man in the mask. It wasn’t his martial skill set that made him dangerous, but his – what did people call it? – Charisma. Fisk had known from the first moment.

“Are you implying that my mother’s love could make me a better person? I appreciate your optimism… but she’s an old demented woman. She has failed to do just that in all years past.” A thick silence covered the room. “While we’re speaking of it, could you check up on her? I haven’t heard anything in the past three days.” “Of course.” Wesley took a breath, then came back to the previous subject: “I didn’t mean your mother.” Fisk’s eyes searched the room for something that wasn’t there.

“James, you know there is no one else.” His voice had grown more silent as he realized how lonely he actually had been all along. “Think about it.” Wesley pressed his lips together and turned to leave.

“Wait.”

Wilson had taken two steps towards him. “I don’t know what you mean. You're ...confusing.” Wesley flashed a smile. “Don’t bother.” He opened the door to leave and looked for one last time into Fisk’s deeply saddened eyes.

“Don’t leave now.” His employer choked out. “I have calls to make. I’ll be back before you know I’m gone.” “You meant yourself?” The distance between them was unbearable. James refused to look back. “I don’t understand. Why would anyone - why would you of all people feel affectionate towards _this_? Towards _me_?” Wesley inhaled sharply. He closed his eyes and turned, not in fact thinking about the consequences of what he was about to do. Fisk stood there like a mountain, but as soon as Wesley’s lips touched his, he felt himself beginning to melt. This was different than any of the times Vanessa had touched him. It had the same tingling feeling in the stomach to it, but with a calm note. Suddenly, he felt like the world wasn’t so bad. He could make a positive difference. And he would. When he opened his eyes again, Wesley had disappeared. His words _I’ll be back before you know I’m gone_ seemed to echo through the room. Was he going mad?. The door still stood open, but no one seemed to have noticed. Fisk looked back at Vanessa in her deathbed. Oh, no. Slowly, he tried to process what just happened. He needed to get out.

* * *

 

 

“Hello, Marlene? It’s Wesley. No, I work with your son. We’ve met before. James Wesley, that’s right.” He smiled, even though the woman at the other end of the line couldn’t see him. Surprised at how he could just move on like this after such an important confession, he carefully listened to her words while studying the hospital floor. Fisk wouldn’t find him here, not until he was done. “Uh, no he’s indisposed at the moment, I’m sorry, was there something I could help you with?” His stomach was fluttering, he felt like screaming. Still, he obtained his attitude. If there was one thing he was good at, it was keeping his poker face. “Wait, I’m sorry. _Who_ came to visit you?”

 

One hour later, Wesley lay in a chair in a deserted warehouse. He’d been shot in the chest four times by Karen Page. His phone kept ringing, never to be answered again. The caller was Wilson Fisk.

 

 


End file.
